


I Try To Picture Me Without You

by missingnolovefic



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon-Typical Violence, Fake AH Crew, Female Jack, Fluff, Gen, Happy Ending, Slice of Life, Telepathic Bond, potential death but no one actually dies, what if
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 22:02:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6489112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missingnolovefic/pseuds/missingnolovefic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where everyone has at least one soulmate, Ryan finds himself in a strange 7-way bond with 6 of the most notorious criminals of all Los Santos. They're the stuff of nightmares-</p><p>And the dorkiest people Ryan's ever known. So when Gavin asks <em>what if you were faced with a soulmate on the other side of a job</em> he tries to picture it.</p><p>Or 6 Times Ryan Nearly Killed His Soulmate But Didn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Try To Picture Me Without You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kayssna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayssna/gifts).



> Title from Immortal by Fallout Boy (Caleb Hyles' cover kept coming up in my playlist while writing this. I was originally going with a line from Natasha Bedingfield's Soulmate or Kylie Minogue's Can't Get You Out Of My Head.)
> 
> A couple days ago I was bothering everyone about Soulmate AU, and then this happened. For kayssna, who suffers through all my potential ideas, realized or not.  
> I'm really, really proud to produce a soulbond au without much angst for once.
> 
> Unbeta'd, so please let me know if you find any typos :)

They’re on stake-out and Gavin decides to join him after he scouts out the inside of the bank. Ryan is on the roof across from their target, Michael idly driving by every other minute on his bike. They’re all on comms, they always are even during prep. No sense in repeating the Golfing Incident. Jack might kill them next time.

The telepathic bond they share is really more for emergencies.

Besides, Jack and Geoff are in negotiations with one of their allies, and it wouldn’t do to distract them with their banter. He watches Gavin leave the bank through his binoculars, sighing aggrievedly as the other flashes him a victory sign.

“Gavin,” he growls, mentally nudging Ray to check on the surveillance cameras and tinker with the footage if necessary. They all receive the equivalent of the finger in return.

“Ryan,” the blond replies, grinning as he skips across the street without care for the traffic and vanishes in the alleyway with the fire escape. He’ll be on the roof to bother him personally in a minute. “Ryan, what if you were faced with a soulmate on the other side of a job.”

The Vagabond frowns, observing the door guard leaving his post again for the third time in an hour. He’s been fidgety since his shift started. That might be their way in.

“Like, if we find another soulmate or? Because I don’t think there’s any more voices in my head,” he ponders, following the guard until he vanishes around the corner. “Michael, drive by again, see what that guard is up to behind the convenience store.”

“On it,” Michael grunts, the roar of an engine echoing through their comms. “Don’t you think six soulmates is already plenty, Gavvy?”

“Okay, but what if,” Gavin goes on enthusiastically, and Ryan smiles fondly. “What if we hadn’t like met and like didn’t know what each other looks like. And we end up on different sides of a job…”

“You’re nuts, Gav. Besides, we’ve all heard each other already, how would we not recognize any of the others?”

“Yeah, but remember, back before we all came clean about being criminals, and we hadn’t send anyone our pictures yet? Like, we knew each other’s first names but that was it.”

Ryan tries to picture it. In a world where he only knows the others’ voices, has never seen their faces before. He’s travelled a lot back then, so it isn’t exactly unlikely to meet on a job. What would it have been like, meeting the others that way? If he were hired to kill them…

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t know what the kid did to piss off one of the big players, and he doesn’t really care. Kid might be younger than him a couple years, but if he is stupid enough to mess with the big leagues and get caught, he doesn’t deserve to keep going. He’s being paid six figures to get rid of this brat, he’s going to do his job.

His only clue to his target is a candid photo from a surveillance cam, it’s grainy and flat, but he can make out the big nose and even bigger grin easily. The eyes are hidden behind expensive sunglasses, and the hair is gelled up into a terrible coiff. It takes him a couple days to track him down - longer than he would have thought, but for all the recklessness the kid displays he’s also _good_ at covering his tracks.

Ryan is better, though.

‘ _Off on a job,_ ’ he thinks loudly, ‘ _keep it down, please._ ’

He receives general affirmatives, distracted and warm. He smiles widely, pulling on the mask over the facepaint. It’s good to know he’s not alone, that if he messed up a job, if someone got the drop on him, he wouldn’t pass on unnoticed. Not enough to rely on them just yet - they’re not that far yet, and he trusts them with most of his secrets but not all - however, it’s a nice thought that one day he might.

He waits for the kid in the dark apartment, rummaging through the drawers when he gets bored. There’s a lot of gold jewelry, clocks, a gold-plated tennis racket, a row of gilded high-quality sunglasses, even a golden baseball bat. It’s ostentatious. Ryan shakes his head in disgust, but steals a pair of sunglasses anyway. It seems like something Gavin would appreciate, for some reason.

The lock of the front door clicks, followed by a bang as the door hits the wall, and another loud crack of the door slamming close. Ryan flinches, dropping the wristband and grabbing his gun with the silencer. He steps back into the walk-in closet, shadows concealing him well enough that the kid won’t see him but he can watch the door at the same time.

His target doesn’t even look up from his phone as he steps into his bedroom, flopping down belly first on the bed with a groan. The sun lights up his dirty blond hair a beautiful golden, shirt riding up to reveal tanned skin, and Ryan takes a deep breath before stepping out of the closet. He cocks his gun, clicking off the safety. Blondie’s head snaps up, and he stares at Ryan with wide eyes.

‘ _Whoops,’_ Gavin’s voice echoes in his head, followed by a barrage of inquiries by the others, but Ryan tunes them out, trying to mute his end of the connection. He has a job to do. The kid drops the phone and lifts his hands in surrender.

‘- _ou mean you’re going to die!?_ ’ Michael’s roar breaks through the general background noise of his soulmates’ voices in his head. Ryan grits his teeth, eyes not leaving the kid’s as he jerks his gun, silently directing him to stand up. Blondie scrambles to his feet quickly, keeping his hands up. The others will take care of Gavin, he knows, he has to rely on that, he has a job to do-

‘ _Okay but Michael, listen, Michael, what kind of prick wears a skull mask, Michael, can you believe it, I think there’s_ facepaint _under there, too, seriously, who DOES that-_ ’

The blond is squinting at him, and Ryan tilts his head. His soulmates are in an uproar, and Jack is trying to quiet them down so they can help Gavin, but he can feel their despair seeping through-

‘ _Gavin, listen up, that sounds like the Vagabond. Be careful, he’s dangerous as dicks- Gavin, are you listening, talk to me, buddy-_ ’ Geoff is panicking, and Ryan blinks. The blond cocks his head in imitation, and Ryan’s eyebrows fly up in surprised realization.

‘ _But Geoffrey, he looks like a theatre reject, Geoff, he can’t be too bad-_ ’ Gavin babbles, his hands twitching like he wants to flail for emphasis, and fuck. Ryan huffs, clicking the safety back on and lowering his gun.

“Fuck you,” he says succinctly into the silent room. The blond’s eyes widen, and he drops his hands down. “I want you to know I’m a theatre major, okay, and the mask is fucking scary.”

“Ryan?” Gavin asks, a slight uncertainty in his voice. The bond is thrumming with tension, queries for an update, and Jack hushing the others so Gavin can think up a way to get himself out of trouble. Ryan snorts, pulling off his mask and flinging it on the bed.

“Yeah,” he replies faux-casually. “This is not how I pictured us meeting, to be honest.”

Gavin’s shoulders slump as the tension flees his body, and he brings up a shaky hand to scrub at his face. He laughs tremulously, sitting down on the bed.

“Yeah, no, me neither.”

They stare at each other quietly, Gavin flooding reassurance and warmth through the bond. The others’ voices are quieting down, relief almost overwhelming as it bounces between them. Ryan drags a hand through his hair, sighing heavily.

“You’ve made some powerful enemies,” he breaks the silence, sitting down next to Gavin. The blond fiddles with the hem of his shirt, and Ryan sighs. He pulls out the shades he picked up and passes them on to Gavin. He shrugs at Gavin’s confused look, grinning sheepishly. “I thought you’d like them.”

Gavin snorts, shaking his head and putting them down on the nightstand. He takes a deep breath, leaning into Ryan’s side.

“Who wants me dead, then?” he questions, and Ryan can feel his mind whir through their bond. He snags the blond’s hand and squeezes it reassuringly.

“We’ll have to fake your death. I can get rid of them but I’m not sure from how high up the kill order came. And someone might draw conclusions about our connection if I officially spare you - and I have made dangerous enemies as well.”

“Yeah,” Gavin breathes shakily, looking around his bedroom. _Dan_ , he thinks and he’s not sure which of them silently brings it up, but it hangs between them anyway. “There’s not much left for me here. I’ve always wanted to go overseas, since you pricks are all from the US anyway.”

 

* * *

 

“Nah,” Ryan says, turning to grin at Gavin over his shoulder as the other climbs onto the roof.

“He’d probably kill you before you’d open your mouth, asshole,” Michael suggests, and Gavin mentally flips him off.

 

* * *

 

He hates these kind of jobs. Hates the backstabbing, but he’s also grown used to it. His employer hired him specifically to get rid of the other hirelings after they’ve finished the robbery. It’s a shame, he thinks, as he waves the others to run first. They’re a mostly competent bunch, this time. There’s a risk of course that they have similar instructions, or his employer will try to trick him out of his share, but this isn’t Ryan’s first rodeo.

They split up into two different getaway cars. Ryan doesn’t worry- he’s rigged the other car up to explode in two minutes. He makes sure all the money ends up in his car, though. He’s silent as the others celebrate, but since he hasn’t spoken once during the entire heist he gets ignored. The kid in the backseat next to him is grinning wildly, breathing heavily. He’s clutching one of the duffle bags to his chest, pupils blown wide in excitement.

Ryan has avoided the kid till now, because he knows how easily he gets attached to certain types, and the kid hits all his weak spots. He’s young, excitable, competent. But Ryan can’t allow himself to feel sympathy or pity for the boy, can’t allow his conscience to get in between him and the job. The kid’s just another target, just another tragedy in this brutal life. Ryan turns his head away, fixing his gaze on the streets ahead.

They’re almost at the meet-up point. He’ll have to act fast before the others wonder what happened to the second car. He’s lucky that this is amateur hour, and they don’t have comms. He feels eyes boring into him and turns to look at the kid at his side. Kid quirks an eyebrow and gives him a crooked grin. Ryan can’t help but incline his head. It’s a shame he won’t live to see another day. This one has potential.

But Ryan has a job to do, and a 100% success rate to keep.

The car rolls to a stop. Ryan pulls his gun and shoots the driver through the head rest. Before the others can react he swings around, aims, and the other man in the front slumps over dead. He brings the gun around, only to be met with a fist to the face.

“Fuck,” the kid curses, grappling with Ryan for the gun. He has to let go of the trigger before he shoots himself in the leg. Instead he grabs the kid’s wrist, trying to pull him in, but the other has the advantage in this close quarters - Ryan might have a greater reach but crammed into the backseat as they are, his long limbs just get in the way. The kid manages to get a good punch in, and Ryan’s head snaps back against the glass.

‘ _Jeremy? Ryan? Everything okay there?_ ’ Jack’s voice echoes through his head, filled with worry, and he grits his teeth.

‘ _Just fine,_ ’ he replies tersely, lying through his teeth. His nose hurts, but it doesn’t feel broken - his mask is sitting askew, limiting his eyesight and he corrects that quickly. The kid is scrabbling out of the door, ducking around the car cursing loudly.

‘ _Peachy,_ ’ is Jeremy’s sarcastic contribution.

Outside he barely hears the kid swearing, blood rushing through his ears. He opens the door, stalks out of the car and lifts his gun, clicking the safety back off. He never underestimates an opponent twice, he thinks grimly, as he sights the kid. He’s dodging between crates lining this side of the warehouse. Ryan runs after him, wondering how to best get him. Kid’s clever, but if he can get him to make a mistake-

“Come out, come out, Little J,” Ryan sing-songs in his best Vagabond voice. “It’s time to play.”

‘ _Creepy,_ ’ Jeremy thinks, and Ryan almost doesn’t catch it. He tunes out the other voices- sending them a wave of reassurance that he’s fine, okay, now let him do his job, dammit.

He stalks between the boxes, covering the possible exits before driving the kid further into the warehouse. He keeps an ear out, and sure enough, there is a clatter followed by soft cursing, echoing strangely in his head. Ryan rounds the corner and aims, firing in the split second he sees the other.

Little J is quick on his feet though, and quite flexible too. Ryan raises a brow in surprise as he watches the kid jump from a handstand over a crate into a roll, before vanishing behind another pile of crates. Adrenaline surges through him as he sprints after him. The thrill of the hunt, he supposes.

“Fuck!” Little J cries out, and it echoes through his mind ‘ _Fuck, fuck,_ fuck.’

Ryan frowns as he corners the kid. He’s glaring up at him defiantly, head held high. He has to give it to the kid, he’s not lacking in competence or pride, without letting it go to his head. And if he’d rather die with dignity, who is Ryan to deny him? Yet something niggles in the back of his mind.

“Any last words?” he asks, voice pitched low. Little J snarls at him.

“Just get it over with, you creepy motherfucker.”

And that- that sounds so much like Jeremy it hurts. Ryan’s finger hesitates on the trigger, but- he can’t risk it. Not as long as there is even the tiniest chance-

“What, no grand speeches?” he mocks softly, eyes intent. “Gonna tell me your name before you die, kid?”

Little J spits in front of his shoes, baring his teeth. “What, so you can carve it into your Wall of Death? You gonna keep a trophy?”

Ryan hums thoughtfully, tilting his head. “I don’t keep a list, no,” he admits easily, before he stares into the other’s eyes unblinkingly, “...Jeremy.”

The kid flinches, eyes going wide, and then he’s cursing again. Ryan feels triumph swell in his chest, before it’s drowned out by uncertainty. Jeremy is a common enough name, and it’s not too much of a leap for a short guy with a nickname like Little J-

Carefully, he nudges at his bond, singling out _his_ Jeremy.

‘ _Not now,_ ’ he snarls back, tensely, ‘ _I’m busy here._ ’

‘ _Jeremy,_ ’ Ryan calls quietly, insistently, his eyes never leaving the other’s, ‘ _Jeremy, look to your left._ ’

Jeremy’s eyes dart to the left, before resettling on Ryan, and he has to swallow. He’s almost-

‘ _The fuck, Ryan,_ ’ Jeremy spits out, but he’s sounding frantic now.

“Jeremy,” Ryan says, dropping the gun. “Shit, Jeremy.”

“That’s my name, assho-,” Jeremy breaks off, eyes widening. “I- Ryan?”

He can only nod numbly.

 

* * *

 

“Besides,” Ryan throws in, interrupting Gavin’s squawking protests, “what’s the likelihood of someone ordering hits on all of my soulmates and me being the one to pick up those hits?”

“I hate to break it to you, Rye-bread,” Gavin says solemnly, flopping down next to him on the roof. “But you’re kinda the best there is, and we do have our fair share of enemies.”

Ryan glances at him, ponders this for a moment. Finally he shrugs. “True enough.”

 

* * *

 

They drag him in, struggling and with a bag over his head. Ryan wonders if he’s still sleeping, or how else he ended up in a bad gangster B-movie. But it’s not up to him, and he gets paid for standing in the corner looking dangerous. It’s an easy job and good money, he figures it balances out having to deal with his employer’s melodrama.

Speaking of which, the Corpirate walks in behind his prisoner. His henchmen drag the guy to the chair in the middle of the room, binding him with old fashioned ropes. Ryan mentally shakes his head. Going with an image is good and well, but to go so far as to compromise success? Nah. Give him high quality handcuffs over rope or zip ties any day.

“Wakey, wakey, Ramsey, matey,” the Corpirate chuckles, and one of the henchmen rips the bag off his head.

“Fucker,” Ramsey snarls, and Ryan’s heart nearly stops. “Corpirate, you dick, you better let me go or else-”

‘ _Geoff,_ ’ he thinks desperately, not even realizing he’s sending out a mental probe. The other bats him away distractedly, and he watches as Ramsey blinks slowly, obviously still rather out of it. Did they drug him? Ryan curses not having paid more attention to the proceedings, but then, this is supposed to be an easy job. Easy money.

“My, I think someone’s three sheets to the wind, aye?” The Corpirate smirks, clapping Geoff’s shoulder. He continues in a sugary sweet voice. “I wanted to introduce you to the latest freebooter aboard, but I can see you are in no state to appreciate the gesture.”

The Corpirate sighs dramatically, tsking in mock chastisement. Geoff turns bleary eyes on the henchmen, warily taking in the bare room, before his eyes land on Ryan in his work get up. He knows he cuts an intimidating figure, uses it to his purposes, just the same as he makes use of his inflated reputation. Seeing Geoff recognize him, fear chasing the tiredness out of his eyes- It hurts.

‘ _Oh shit, oh shit, guys, I’m in trouble,_ ’ Geoff's voice fills their bond, and the others come to attention immediately. ‘ _In real big trouble._ ’

“That’s right, mate. My dear friend Vagabond here’s gonna walk you down the plank.”

Ryan fidgets. The Corpirate puts both his hands on Geoff’s shoulders and leans in, like a coach giving advice to his boxer. “I suggest you spill before I loose my patience. Your colleagues are not worth suffering through a horrible death, are they? Either you spill, or you’re shark bait, Ramsey.”

‘ _Calm down, Geoff,_ ’ Ryan thinks sternly, hushing the others’ worried questions.

‘ _I got fucking kidnapped, Ryan, don’t tell me to calm down,_ ’ Geoff exclaims, and Ryan can see the shiver run through his legs. ‘ _I’m dead as dicks._ ’

‘ _No. You’re not._ ’ Ryan’s certainty cuts through Michael’s curses and Jack’s panicking. ‘ _I’m here, too. I’ll get you out. Trust me._ ’

Geoff’s eyes widen imperceptibly, before they flicker from one goon to the other. Finally they settle on Ryan, and he sends a wave of reassurance and smug pride down the bond.

‘ _The fuck, Ryan, are you kidding me-_ ’ Geoff shouts, sounding shocked and confused and just a little bit hopeful. Instead of replying in words, Ryan sends him another wave of assurance and physically winks. Geoff blinks before smiling widely.

“Nice try. I’m gonna tell you fuck shit all, dickhead.”

The next few minutes are hard to watch, but Ryan clings to the bond singing between him and his soulmate. Geoff in turn leans on him mentally, fleeing the pain and hiding his panic behind Ryan’s calm presence. They’re waiting for the right moment, they can’t show their hand too soon, or they might both lose-

“Blow the man down, Vagabond,” the Corpirate orders, straightening his tie. He’s finally run out of patience. Whether he expects Geoff to crack under the pressure of the Vagabond drawing his gun on him, or if he’s really done with the man, Ryan doesn’t know and doesn’t care. This is his window of opportunity, and he’s not gonna miss it.

‘ _On three,_ ’ he thinks loudly, and the others quiet down to listen with bated breaths. They still don’t quite know what’s going on, except that Ryan is about to bust Geoff out of a bad situation.

‘ _One-_ ’ he makes a show of pulling his gun and checking the magazine, before he aims it at Geoff’s forehead.

‘ _Two-_ ’ He sees Geoff tensing, takes in the Corpirate’s satisfied smile and clicks off the safety as he stalks forward.

‘ _Three!_ ’ Ryan swings his arm around and shoots, hitting the Corpirate in the middle of the forehead. There’s a beat of silence, another, and then he’s firing again, one of the goons goes down with a cry, clutching his shoulder, the other barely dodges out of the way. At the same time, Geoff shrugs off the ropes, ducking low to get out of Ryan’s line of fire.

A deep breath, another shot and the other man is down, too. Geoff wastes no time looting the dead body, as Ryan breaks the downed henchman’s neck. No reason to waste another bullet, since they’re in hostile territory with no real plan to get out. Ryan checks the door, but no alarm has gone off and no one comes running.

“Alright,” he murmurs, and turns back to Geoff. His soulmate takes a deep breath, sticking one of the goon’s pistols into his waistband. “We need a plan here, because I doubt we can fight our way out.”

“Easy,” Geoff smiles, and something loosens in Ryan’s chest. “I’ve got an idea.”

He picks up the rope, holds out his hands so Ryan can coil it around his wrists a couple times, before hiding the ends in his fists. The idea is that Vagabond is ordered to take the prisoner out back for easier disposal. The story won’t hold up if anyone looks closer, but hopefully they will only run into some more goons who are used to taking orders.

The Corpirate didn’t hire the brightest bulbs in the box, after all. Ryan doesn’t care, as long as it works, and he gets his soulmate out of here safe. And then they will have a long, long talk.

 

* * *

 

“Wait,” Geoff interrupts, turning on his comm earpiece just then. “Why are we discussing Ryan killing us? Again?”

“Gavin posed an interesting hypothetical,” Ryan replies absentmindedly, turning his attention back to the bank. “Michael, how’s it going on your end?”

“The dude is probably dealing,” Michael muses, “I need to do another drive by, but I think I know the gal he’s meeting.”

“Your chat done, Geoffrey?” Gavin chirps up, flailing and nearly knocking the binoculars out of Ryan’s hands. He glares at the blond sharply, but he just grins back carelessly. “Or did you leave Jack to charm their pants off?”

 

* * *

 

Sometimes Ryan wonders how his reputation leads him to jobs like… this. Flynt Coal is an ambitious man, a possessive and jealous crime lord. He’s old school, and as such maybe it doesn’t surprise Ryan that he wants his young girlfriend followed and watched, in case she cheats on him or is up to other nefarious matters Coal has no control over.

What Ryan certainly doesn’t get is why Coal thinks the Vagabond is the right hire for the job.

But here he is, after Coal asked for him specifically, to play bodyguard to a young woman who may or may not have gotten in over her head. To scare her off or eliminate her, if necessary. First and foremost he’s an overly glorified guard dog, and if the woman is stupid enough to go about her business with him looking over her shoulder, it’s probably best for her to cut ties with someone as high profile as Coal.

The job sounds interesting enough, an entertaining break from the usual, that Ryan agrees easily. He declines the whiskey - he rarely drinks, and never on the job - as he waits with his employer in the lounge for the lady to join them. A servant opens the hall doors for her, and Ryan turns to observe his target. She’s stunning, fire-red hair in a short bob, pearl earrings and necklace giving her an air of sophistication.

“Oh dear, I seem to have kept you waiting,” she simpers, covering her mouth with a gloved hand in a mien of embarrassment. She walks over to Flynt, kissing his cheek. “Apologies, darling. I didn’t know you had a guest.”

“Apology accepted, sweetheart,” Flynt pats her cheek condescendingly and turns his back on her. Ryan watches avidly as a grimace flits over her face as soon as her fiancé doesn’t look at her, before she manages to school her expression. _Interesting_ , Ryan thinks quietly. She seems vaguely familiar.

“May I introduce you to the Vagabond,” Coal continues, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Your new bodyguard, my love.”

“Charmed, I’m sure,” she dismisses him immediately, turning to her boyfriend. “Flynt, darling, I know you worry, but I _do_ assure you I can take care of myself. I’m a big girl.”

“Be that as it may, I do worry. It would ease my mind, if you could put up with this minor inconvenience for a little while. Humor me.”

The woman presses her lips together, but gives in gracefully. “Of course, darling. Anything for you.” She turns back to Ryan, looking him over with narrowed eyes before sticking out her hand in his direction with a wry grin. “Mr. Vagabond. Jean Perthshire.”

He shakes her hand silently, standing back to attention afterwards. Coal regards them smugly, tossing back his whiskey. He puts the glass down and straightens his tie.

“Very well. I’m sure you can take care of further arrangements.” Coal shakes his hand, then walks over to his fiancée and dips her, kissing her chastely. “I have a business dinner tonight. Don’t wait up for me.”

“As you say,” Jean giggles, batting her eyes facetiously. “Don’t stay up too late, it’s not good for your health, darling.”

Flynt gives her a long look, before he grins beatifically.

“Of course, sweetheart.” And then he walks out. Jean keeps smiling until the door closes behind him, then her expression slips and she curses. Stalking over to the bar, she pours herself a glass of the same whiskey, offering Ryan another. He shakes his head, curious. Jean drops onto the couch, patting the cushion next to her, and hesitantly he takes the seat.

“Well, fuck,” Jean says, but there’s amusement in her tone. Her voice drops into another register, leaving the simpering high-pitched note out. Ryan blinks, startled, and sits up straighter. He turns to look at her, eyes wide behind the mask because he could swear-

“I don’t suppose I could persuade you to ignore my dealings, or better yet, stay behind while I go about my business, could I?” She quirks a smile at him, and Ryan can only stare back blankly. After a moment she sighs, slumping into the cushions. The slit of her elegant dress rides up to mid-thigh, revealing creamy skin.

“No, I suppose not,” she murmurs, tipping back her whiskey. Ryan struggles with his words for a moment.

“You-” he stops, taking a deep breath. “I suppose,” he starts again, glancing at ‘Jean’ from the corner of his eyes. He notices her start, turning to him with surprise, and has to suppress a grin under his mask. “It would depend on the offer.”

She stares at him for a moment longer, then she breaks down laughing, and Ryan lets himself grin in amusement. It’s not like anyone sees. He prudently takes the glass from her, putting it on the table as she doubles over.

 _‘Jack,_ ’ he scolds quietly, laughter echoing through the bond. He sends her a wave of fondness, and the woman by his side giggles. She waves a hand at him, the other clapped firmly over her mouth as she tries to regain control, taking deep breaths.

‘ _Oh my God,_ ’ Jack thinks back at him, the feeling of hilarity and breathlessness ebbing along their bond. ‘ _I thought I was screwed. What are the odds?_ ’

‘ _Not very high,_ ’ Ryan admits wryly, picturing the equation and sending it to her. ‘Jean’ huffs another laugh, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him lightly. ‘ _Honestly, Jack. What would you do if I wasn’t, well,_ me.’

‘ _Panic, probably,_ ’ she muses, finally catching her breath and straightening up. ‘ _And then risk a rush job, since he’s on my case already. Would be a shame, too, after all the work I put into this con._ ’

She grins up at him unashamedly. She looks beautiful, breath-taking, her hair in disarray and her eyes gleaming with laughter. Ryan tilts his head, doing some quick calculations. Gavin and Jeremy are poking at their bond, trying to figure out what’s so funny. Wanting in on the joke. He bats them away impatiently, and Jack whispers a quiet promise of _Later_.

‘ _I won’t be able to buy you much time,_ ’ he tells her. ‘ _A week at most._ ’

Jack nods, brow furrowing. ‘ _That could work, now that I have an accomplice._ ’ Her smile turns sharp, and Ryan can’t help but smirk back. ‘ _Let’s rob him_ blind.’

‘ _Let’s._ ’

 

* * *

 

“What, she’s good at that,” Geoff deflects, quickly talking over the others jeering at him. “How’s the prep work going? Got a way in yet?”

“Pretty sure we can either bribe or blackmail one of the guards,” Ryan reports, watching as the guy walked back to his post after a good ten minutes of absence. He doesn’t seem outwardly nervous, but even if talking to him won’t work they’ll have a window of opportunity if they can work out his routine.

“Affirmative,” Michael agrees, “I’m following his dealer, I think she’s one of Lindsay’s actually. I'll check with Little J later.”

 

* * *

 

It happens annoyingly often that he gets hired for a job where a business rival of his employer’s hires his own people, and Ryan has to fight his way out. It happens alarmingly often that it’s basically routine at this point. Ryan decides he should feel insulted. His reputation, as exaggerated as it is, is hard-earned and based on some gruesome truths.

These idiots should not look at him, shrug and just open fire _like they don’t care_ they’re facing the fucking Vagabond. Not that the crew employing him has any more sense, and he makes a mental note to never do contract work for them ever again. Even if it’s a solo job. Or well, not if they’re not talking seven figures at least. They’re utter _morons_ , all of them.

Maybe it’s something in the water. There must be a reason why New Jersey is generally looked down on, and with good reason to judge by the people he’s met here so far.

They catch one of the rival crew’s members, a scrawny kid with curly hair, and his employer gloats at him very dramatically. Frankly, Ryan just wants this job to be over already. He’s decided he doesn’t like the bloke when he starts ranting about glory, blah blah blah, infamity, blah, get over your own damn ego.

“Let’s make an example,” he says, an insane glint in his eyes, “show those Jersey bitches who’s boss.”

For some reason he’s directing it at Ryan, who stares back at him blankly. Admittedly, he has tuned the idiot out by the third time he mispronounced _dignity_. Still, he gets the gist of his order and has to suppress a sigh, silently drawing his gun and pointing it at the prisoner.

“Fuck me,” the kid says, just as the same voice repeats in his head, ‘ _Fuck me, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, fuck, I’m too young for this shit-_ ’

‘ _No, Michael, you can’t die-_ ’ Gavin chimes in, just as Jack exclaims, ‘ _-what are you doing, don’t die-_ ’ and Ray yells ‘ _You can’t die, asshole, you promised to team up with me in Black Ops this weekend-_ ’

And Ryan stares blankly, stares into fiery, determined eyes and sees the lurking fear underneath, as a cacophony builds in his head. Stares long enough for the kid to fidget, for his employer’s grin to slip into a frown. He licks his suddenly dry lips, the mask thankfully hiding the nervous tick.

“The fuck you’re waiting for, Vagabond, blow his brains out!”

But Ryan’s already shaking his head, sticking the gun back into his holster as he turns nonchalantly to his client.

“Nah,” he declares, shrugging in a what-can-you-do manner.

“What do you mean, ‘nah’?” Ryan watches in fascination as the guy’s head turns into a tomato, a slight purple color around the jills. He tilts his head curiously.

“The voices in my head don’t want him dead,” he explains patiently.

‘ _This guy’s batshit crazy,_ ’ Michael blurts out into their bond, and their soulmates’ quiet for a moment, a feeling of inquiry left in their wake. A moment later, a look of dawning realization flickers over his face. ‘ _What the fuck, Ryan, is that_ you?’

“Look, man, you can discuss things with your soulmate or conscience or whatever another time. I’m paying you, Vagabond, and I’m saying kill him already.”

Ryan cocks his head in the other direction, glancing to the side like he’s listening to someone. He uses the movement to take in the positions of the rest of the crew - five people plus the boss, he should be able to take them out easily. He blinks lazily at his former boss, playing up the crazy angle for all it’s worth.

“I don’t have those, I don’t think,” Ryan says with his deep voice, putting as much innocence in there as he can for the creepy factor. “Soulmates, I mean. Or a conscience, actually, now that I think about it.”

He looks back at Michael, fists clenched by his side where he’s kneeling in front of him, and Ryan takes solace in the calculating look hidden beneath a visage of pure fury. He nods decisively, prodding the mental link he has with the lad.

‘ _You still got those grenades on you?_ ’ he asks, and feels a tingle of affirmation along the bond. He notices Michael’s hands inch up into his leather jacket and can only mentally shake his head at the carelessness of his employer to leave a hostage untied.

“The voices have decided it’s time for a murder break,” Ryan explains earnestly, turning back to the crew leader. His hand drops to his gun.

“Tell them I said thanks, then, I guess,” Michael interjects, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

The gesture covers the flinging of his grenades for a second, before the _pling pling_ land on the ground at the feet of at least five crew members. Ryan jerks forward, tackling Michael to the floor and rolling them away, covering the younger man with his own body as the floor shakes from the explosions.

Debris hit his back, hot and heavy, but Ryan doesn’t spare it any attention, already rolling up to his feet, Michael close behind him. His gun’s out and the safety off a second later, and he aims at vital areas of the bodies lying around. Better safe than sorry - next to him Michael draws a knife, slinking off to check the rival crew for live members.

Ryan takes count - at least two of them are missing, having vanished during the commotion. His employer is one of them. He reloads, mind whirling furiously.

‘ _Two missing, keep an eye out,_ ’ he warns Michael, and gets a short burst of acknowledgement in turn. In this they have an advantage - they don’t need comms to stay in contact, and they won’t give their positions away by calling out to each other.

‘ _Got one,_ ’ Michael cheers, sending him an image of the guy. Ryan gives him a mental high five, getting a burst of joy in return.

He rounds a corner and is faced with the muzzle of a gun. He blinks, following it to the trembling hand and then up to the face of his former client. Ryan throws his head back and laughs, the idiot nearly dropping his gun as he shakes in fear.

“The fuck, Vagabond,” he starts, and his voice goes higher than ever before.

“I lied,” Ryan confesses, eyes glinting, “I’m not on a murder break after all.”

And with that, he knocks the gun out of his hand, shooting him once, twice- he really, really didn’t like this one. Annoying little shit.

 

* * *

 

“So, what’s the verdict on the killing thing?” Michael asks curiously, and Ryan laughs.

“Gav would die immediately, wouldn’t even see it coming,” Geoff jeers, much to the blond’s squawking protest.

“No fair, Geoffrey,” he pouts, making grabby hands, and Ryan sighs exasperatedly. He shakes his head, doing a quick survey of the bank, but nothing has changed since last time.

“You know,” Ryan reflects, handing his binoculars over to Gavin. “This what if scenario is actually pretty damn close to what happened with me and Ray.”

“Really?” Gavin asks, surprised. “I thought you knew each other before!”

“Sort of,” Ryan admits, remembering.

 

* * *

 

He’s been on jobs with the kid before. He likes working with Brownman, he’s focussed and easy to work with. They’re both solitary and quiet mercenaries, but their areas of expertise don’t overlap. Which is why they don’t cross paths often, but when they do, it’s usually fun. Except for the few times Brownman sniped his target before he could get to it, or the one time he killed Ryan’s employer before he could cash in.

It’s why when he recognizes the hot pink sniper rifle barely peeking out from the jacket that he declines the hit. He’s not gonna off one of his favorite partners, but he realizes that it won’t be that easy - because the hit is out there. For a moment, he eyes the middleman, wondering if he could get away with killing her - just the Vagabond snapping, it happens every now and then, no one would suspect.

But he knows the woman is not the root of his problem, not the one putting the hit out there and he’s not sure he could get the name of who is hiring him out of her. She’s fierce, a fighter taken out of the field too early, using her experience to help people like him negotiate. She’s one of his better contacts, too.

In the end, he simply declines and walks out of there with no additional blood on his hands. He’s not ready to show his hand to her - she might yet tell her employer, and that’s as good as officially declaring Brownman under his protection. And while it might be useful for the coming weeks, the kid won’t thank him for it. Long-term it will drive some of Ryan’s enemies to his door as well, and Ryan can’t risk that.

He immediately sets out feelers to get in contact with Brownman, a vague enough message to tip no one off, making it sound like he’s cashing in a favor instead. The kid will know that something is up because he doesn’t owe Ryan a thing - but he’s betting Brownman will be curious enough to get in contact with him.

He knows next to nothing about the kid, Ryan muses, has never even talked to him. Vagabond is by necessity a silent, threatening figure, and Brownman prefers to keep as much distance as possible between him and others. Normally, they get their orders, often don’t know about the other but in the loosest sense - “someone else will take care of xy” style.

But he likes the kid, and so he waits, spending time indulging Gavin in his weird hypotheticals, playing various games with Ray and Michael, teasing Geoff and Jeremy with Jack. Finally, finally he gets a response. The kid’s willing to meet him, but provides new coordinates. Ryan expected as much, it’s only common sense. He would’ve been disappointed by anything less.

Which is how Ryan ends up in New York. He recognizes Brownman from the photo he was shown, but due to the public setting Ryan has decided to forgo his own mask. The kid won’t recognize him until he reveals himself - he could kill him now, cash in the bounty still. Say he changed his mind, and it would be easy, it would be tempting-

Except he already decided against that, and he will see this through.

He settles down with his back to the kid, directly behind him. It won’t stop Brownman from turning around and seeing his face, but it gives him a couple extra moments. It’s unnerving, revealing his secret identity to anyone. Not even his soulmates know he’s the Vagabond, he hasn’t found the courage yet, even though he suspects that at least Geoff and Gavin are involved in crime as well.

“Brownman,” he greets the kid casually and feels him tense behind him. He keeps staring straight ahead, barely moving his lips. “Someone offered me a job I thought might catch your interest. A hit. Care to guess who they want me to get rid off?”

“ _Ryan?_ ” the kid asks disbelievingly, sputtering. He’s shaking his head already, because he knows no one named Ryan on the hit list. Then the words and more importantly voice sink in. He whirls around, staring wide eyed at Brownman- at _Ray_ \- who’s gaping at him with equal amounts of shock and disbelief. “The fuck.”

“ _Ray_ _?_ ” Ryan shakes his head. He can’t believe- he knew Ray was a good sniper in ego shooters but- “Wow, okay. This is- this is unexpected.”

“Unexpected my ass,” Ray mutters, standing up, and Ryan follows his example. He never expected to meet one of his soulmates when he set out on this journey. He wants to ask him so many things but- Okay, no. Priorities. Warning first.

“Someone put out a hit on you,” he states bluntly, watching Ray tense again. “They offered me the job, but I declined. Doesn’t mean someone else won’t pick it up.”

“Shit,” Ray swears, watching him warily. Cautiously, he prods at their bond. ‘ _You never said you were the fucking Vagabond._ ’

Ryan narrows his eyes. ‘ _In all fairness, you never came clean about_ your _second life either._ ’

Ray shrugs casually. “Fair enough.” He gives him a screwed look. “A hit, you say?”

Ryan nods, getting back to business. “Yes. We should plan how to get rid of that. I don’t know who’s behind it, I’m relatively sure they searched out my contact instead of my contact being their regular. Frankly, I have no idea where to start, but they have a picture of you.”

Ray frowns, nodding slowly. Ryan wonders how he can take the news so calmly.

“We might as well head to Los Santos, meet up with Geoff,” Ray suggests, and Ryan gives him a long, questioning look. “What? He’s not as careful as he thinks. Surely you’ve caught onto his activities, too. We were gonna meet sooner or later anyway, and Gavin’s headed there, too.”

Ryan nods in agreement. “Jack’s there already, I’m pretty sure,” he adds.

Ray grins, a wild and carefree expression. “Cool. Lemme grab my things, and we can head off.”

To Los Santos. To meet three more of their soulmates. He still doesn’t feel ready, but Ray’s right. It’s inevitable.

 

* * *

 

“Huh,” Gavin says thoughtfully, watching the clouds with the binoculars. “I guess you’d figure it out before you killed anyone, right? You’re real smart, Ryan.”

“Ryan the IQ guy!” Michael jokes, and they all laugh.

“I guess,” Ryan agrees, shrugging before flopping on top of Gavin. The blond yelps, flailing, as Ryan tries to snatch his binoculars back. “It’s kinda inevitable.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come chat with me on [tumblr](http://miss-ingno.tumblr.com/ask/) or let me know what you think in a comment!
> 
> I did a lot of world-building that never ended up in this story, would anyone be interested in reading that? As a tumblr post, or maybe notes in a second chapter? Let me know! /edit: I did the thing: [x](http://miss-ingno.tumblr.com/post/142585177617/that-worldbuildingmeta-post-i-promised)


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